Bad Dreams
by MacsLady
Summary: This is an AU fic. Claire didn't die on 9/11 and she and Mac still live in New York City with their 6 year old son Zack. One night, Zack is upset after a bad dream, but Daddy Mac is there to look after him.


**Disclaimer: All CSI: NY characters belong to the writers. Curious George and Spongebob are the property of their respective creators. Zack, however, is my creation.**

**Notes: This is an AU fic. It is set in 2010. Mac is still head of the NY Crime Lab. **

**9/11 still happened, but for reasons explained in this fic, Claire was not in the World Trade Center when it happened. **

**Zack was born in 2004.**

**Bad Dreams.**

Mac jerked awake. His forehead was damp with sweat, and he was shaking slightly. Instinctively, he glanced to his left to check on Claire. She was fast asleep, her head in the crook of his shoulder, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her breathing low and steady.

_God, she's so beautiful,_ he thought. Slowly, carefully, he inched away from her and got out of bed, padding into the kitchen. He filled a glass with tap water and drank some. It soothed his throat, which was parched from the terror of his nightmare. That day, he'd closed a particularly difficult case, the murder of a child. A little boy, aged 6, who had been shot along with his mother and the man she lived with over some money the man had owed his drug dealer. In Mac's nightmare, he had walked into Sid's autopsy room. Sid had pulled back the sheet covering a tiny body, but instead of the body of little Ricky Simmons, it had been the body of Mac's own 6-year old son, Zack. The short, curly brown hair soaked in blood, the boy's big, ever-curious green eyes closed, his little face covered in blood...Mac shuddered violently at the memory. The very thought of anything bad happening to Zack, or to Claire, terrified him. He'd come so close to losing Claire on 9/11, if that meeting she had been supposed to attend hadn't been cancelled at the last minute because her boss had suddenly come down with a stomach bug, she might have died. Not only would he have lost the love of his life, but Zack would never have been born.

'D...Daddy?' came a tiny voice from the doorway. Mac turned, and the images from his nightmare faded as he saw his son standing in the doorway in his Spongebob pj's, his Curious George cuddly toy hanging it's tail from his small left hand. Looking at his son, Mac felt a rush of warmth and love so powerful it rocked him to his core. He had had his doubts about having a child with Claire, feared that he would disappoint her, not be a good father -he felt he had so much to live up to in comparison to his own dad. He also knew all too well from his time in the Marines and as a cop and now a CSI, all the horrible things that could happen to children. He'd seen children not much older than Zack be victims of war, of bombs and shootings, seen children be participants in war, used as 'soldiers'. As a cop and CSI, he'd seen cases of abuse and neglect, sometimes leading to death, he'd seen children killed deliberately or by horrible accident. He'd seen more parents utterly devastated by the loss of their child than he ever wanted to count. But Claire became pregnant, and Zack was born. When Mac first held him in his arms, and saw those green eyes looking up at him with open curiosity and complete trust, those fears had still been there, yes, but they'd been overwhelmed by that same rush of love he felt every time he saw his son. Zack had taught him that having kids could be scary as hell, but also wonderful.

'What's wrong, buddy, why are you up so late?' Mac asked, glancing at the clock, seeing it was just after 3:30am.

As he crossed the kitchen and crouched in front of Zack, Mac noticed the acrid odour of urine, and saw the dark patch on Zack's pj pants. He also saw his son's red cheeks, his lowered head. His son was embarrassed, Mac realized, and the thought made his heart ache.

'Hey, Zack, it's all right,' Mac said, gently, reaching out to touch his son's tiny, slightly shaking shoulder.

'_Not_ all right, Daddy. I had a nightmare, and I had an accident. Like a stupid baby!' Zack said his little voice filled with shame and anger at himself.

'Zack, look at me,' Mac said, his voice whisper-soft.

Slowly, Zack lifted his head, his green eyes, bright with unshed tears and shame, meeting his.

'You haven't done anything wrong, Zack. It was just an accident, it wasn't your fault.'

'But only stupid babies wet the bed. That's what Johnny at school says.'

'Well, Johnny at school is an idiot, and I bet he's not nearly as tough as you,' Mac said, his eyes never leaving his son's.

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Zack's mouth.

'Well, he *did* cry when he fell over in the playground, an' he only cut his knee. When I felled off the climbing frame and broke my arm I didn't even cry!' Zack said proudly.

'Well, there you go, then,' Mac said, smiling at the tough, proud tone in his son's voice.

'Now, how about me, and you and George go and clean up your bed, then I'll get you some fresh pj's?'

''Kay, Daddy,' Zack said, then, 'You not gonna tell anyone? Not even Mommy?'

'It'll be our secret,' Mac whispered, 'We'll tell your Mom you spilt some juice on your pj's and your bedsheets, then she won't be suspicious when she sees the sheets in the drier.' He used his best 'sneaky' tone, and gave his son a wink.

Zack's smile widened.

'Okay, Daddy,' he said, giggling a little.

Mac stood, and taking his son's hand, led him to the bathroom. Once there, he helped the boy out of his wet pajamas and then stood him up in the bathtub, using the shower attachment to rinse off his legs, grinning as Zack giggled at how the water tickled.

Then he wrapped a big fluffy towel around Zack's small body and dried him off before grabbing a fresh pair of Zack's tiny boxers from the airing cupboard.

Now he was clean and dry, Zack seemed much happier, the redness had faded from his cheeks, and his eyes no longer shone with tears.

'Hey, buddy, I don't have any of your pj's for you to wear because your Curious George ones are still in the wash, and this pair needs washing now, too, but how about you wear my old Marines t-shirt?' Mac pulled the t-shirt from the airing cupboard. It was old and faded and tatty, but the way Zack's eyes lit up, it could have been the finest garment money could buy.

'Yeah, Daddy!' Zack said, a little too loud.

'Okay, sssh, now, though, we don't want to wake Mommy,' Mac whispered.

'Oh! Okay, Daddy,' Zack whispered, loudly.

Mac helped him into the t-shirt and chuckled when he saw how it came down to well below Zack's knees. His heart filled with love and pride as he saw the pride glowing in Zack's green eyes. Grabbing spare bedding from the airing cupboard in one hand, Mac took Zack's hand in his and led him to his room.

About ten minutes later, he had changed Zack's bedding and disposed of the 'evidence' of Zack's accident in the laundry basket. He would get up before Claire in the morning and put the whole lot into the washing machine. Claire might well guess what had happened, but Mac had promised Zack he wouldn't tell her, and he wouldn't.

Once he had Zack tucked into bed, Mac lay beside his son, one arm around his small body.

'Daddy, I had a nightmare before I had my accident,' Zack whispered.

'What did you dream, buddy?' Mac asked.

'That a monster came, and it hurt you and Mommy,'

'That is a scary dream,' Mac said, softly, 'But I promise, you, Zack, I will never let any monsters hurt you, or Mommy, or me. I will keep you safe, and I will never leave you, even when you're all grown up, okay?' Mac knew all too well that he one day might not be able to protect his son from harm, but he was damned well going to try.

He pulled his son closer and kissed the top of his head.

'Do only babies have bad dreams, Daddy?' Zack asked. Mac looked down into his son's eyes.

'No, buddy. Everyone has them. Even me.'

Zack's eyes widened.

'You have bad dreams, Daddy?' he said, sounding surprised.

'Yeah,' Mac said softly.

'Mommy says when you were a Marine, some of your friends got hurt, and that sometimes you see scary things at work. She says that's why you look sad sometimes. Is that what you have bad dreams 'bout, Daddy?'

'Sometimes,' Mac said. 'Sometimes I have bad dreams just like yours, that...you or your Mommy get hurt or...taken away.'

Zack suddenly smiled, and whacked Mac on the shoulder with Curious George.

'But that's silly, Daddy. I would never let anyone take me away from you. I would kick them in their private parts and bite their nose off if they tried! And Mommy says if anyone tried to hurt us, you would put their sorry butts down. So, someone would have to be really, really, _really_ stupid if they tried to hurt us or take me away. So you shouldn't have bad dreams like that, Daddy.' Zack's eyes glowed with fierceness and conviction as he spoke, and Mac smiled. He loved Zack's mixture of six-year-old toughness and vulnerability. He just hoped he'd be able to live up to his son's faith in him.

'Okay,' he said, 'I'll try not to have that bad dream anymore if you try not to have your bad dream anymore, too.'

Zack nodded solemnly , then yawned.

'I'm sleepy, Daddy. Will you stay here with me and George till we go back to sleep?'

'Of course I will, little man,' Mac said.

Zack smiled and closed his eyes, snuggling close to Mac, Curious George nestled in the crook of his elbow. Mac watched over his son, feeling the warmth of his tiny body against his own, watching his tiny chest rise and fall, and felt a sense of utter contentment. Lying next to his son, in the safety of his bedroom, all the 'monsters' of the world, real or imagined, seemed to fade away. Zack fell asleep pretty quickly, and not long after, Mac too drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The End.


End file.
